


Déjà Vu

by Karen T (poohmusings)



Category: Alias (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-01
Updated: 2003-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:52:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poohmusings/pseuds/Karen%20T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice thinks about the repetitions in her life as she waits for her relationship with Vaughn to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Déjà Vu

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** If Alias were mine, I would have treated Alice better.  
>  **Spoilers:** "Double Agent"  
>  **Notes:** Written for EV's Eyes of a Stranger Challengefic. My continued eternal thanks to Mai for whipping my fics into shape with her betas.

I can tell he doesn't think I know, thinks I can't detect from the shifts in his demeanor how things have changed between us.

It amazes me that he doesn't see how we've been here before. 

I know I can stop what is to come. I can say, "Michael, this isn't working, so maybe we should just cut our losses now before one of us gets really hurt." But, see, I am already hurt, and once you've been hurt, you can't become _more_ hurt. At least that's what I tell myself. 

So I instead continue to watch Michael fidget on the other side of the table. 

The fingers of his left hand are drumming against the tabletop, and his right hand is playing with the knot of his tie, nervously twisting it from side to side. 

I sigh and lean back in my chair, waiting patiently for the inevitable. _I will not make a scene_ , I promise myself. _If he wants to do this, then fine. But I will_ not _let him make me lose control. Not again._

He's pretending to study the menu, even though he must know I'm aware of how he always orders the same thing - spinach and mushroom omelet with cheddar cheese - whenever we have breakfast at this coffee shop. But still I wait, my eyes skimming over the curves of his cleanly shaven face...the sharp color contrast of his dark suit jacket against his crisp, white shirt...the continual drumming of his fingers. 

When I cock my head to one side and clear my throat, he finally looks at me. "I, uh... I don't really have time for breakfast today," he says, one hand drifting up to scratch his chin. 

"Busy morning?" I ask as I reach for the hand he still has lying on the table. I know he will pull away, but, for some reason, the need to continue our charade pulses through me. Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I'm hoping-praying-that my instincts are wrong. 

"Yeah, I...I have an important meeting with a...co-worker." As predicted, he moves his hand out of my reach by placing it into his lap. This is what life has been like with him for the past month. 

"'Co-worker', huh?" I wince at the sarcasm that has crept into my voice. _Remember, you're not going to do this,_ I remind myself. But I can't help it. I can't believe I allowed myself to fall for him again. "Well, we can go, if you want." 

"No, you should-" He stops abruptly, and a look flickers across his face. Suddenly, he looks me directly in the eyes for the first time in weeks. "Alice, I'm sorry, but we can't do this anymore." 

Even though he says the exact phrase he used when he first broke up with me, the words still cut through me like a sword. But I force a stiff smile onto my lips and blink several times in succession to prevent the tears I had hoped I wouldn't shed from building up. I want to say "I know" and then add a few choice words about his habit of hurting me, but I instead grind my teeth together in order to hold in my thoughts. 

He's staring at me, obviously waiting for me to respond in some way, and when he realizes I won't, panic fills his eyes. "I mean, things...things between us haven't been-" His brows draw inwards in desperation, and I make sure my face remains blank. Unfortunately, watching him flounder doesn't satisfy me as much as I had thought it would. "The thing is, we probably never should have gotten back together. I mean, I think you're a wonderful person and I appreciate everything you've done for me, but, well...nothing's really changed, you know? All those issues we had before? They're still there. And maybe if I hadn't gotten sick and your dad hadn't..." 

A searing ache tears through my heart as I process his words, and I can't stop a gasp from escaping my mouth. Even though so much of this situation feels familiar, I have never, in a million years, expected Michael to nullify the past two months of our relationship like he just did. "Maybe we should just cut our losses then before one of us gets really hurt." The sentence I had intended not to say rolls off my tongue, heavy and dull. 

The relief that spills into his eyes reveals to me how happy he is that I've said the 'magic words'. "I really do think that's for the best, Alice." 

The only thing I trust myself to do is nod. 

He extends a hand to embrace one of mine - _Now he wants to hold hands?_ \- but I grab my purse from off the back of my chair and rise to my feet. 

"Alice, I really am sorry. I've never meant..." 

I tune his apologies out as a million thoughts begin screaming in my head. The loudest one wants to know why I keep letting him to do this, why I continually hand him control of our relationship, of me. 

"Please stop." The words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to consider swallowing them unspoken. 

"What? Alice, I-" 

I silence him by holding up a hand. "We've been here before, Michael. I've let you say your 'I'm sorry's so you could feel better and I've waited for you to leave the room before I started to cry, but now I...I want to know why. Why have I never been enough for you? Why do you say you care about me, but then do... _this_ to me, twice? And why can't you just be honest and admit that the problem isn't so much with us but with you? You're in love with another woman, the same woman as before." 

The shock that widens his eyes and causes his mouth to fall slightly open is enough to confirm _all_ my suspicions. Looks like my instincts had been right after all. 

But for the first time since Michael called me last night and asked if I wanted to have breakfast with him in the morning, I don't feel anxious or angry. I'm simply sad. Sad yet determined. 

Leaning down, I whisper, "Like I've said, Michael, we've been here before. But I really do hope things work out for you with this other woman - whoever she is - because, well, _I'm_ never going to be here again." And with that, I gently brush my lips against his left temple and exit from his life. 

_-the end-_


End file.
